


Fourth

by ackermom



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fluff, Fourth of July, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:26:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25040854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ackermom/pseuds/ackermom
Summary: He thinks he's talking about the picnic, the hill, the fireworks. Until he says it out loud, and then he realizes, his heart beating faster, he means this, all of it. Them.It's not stupid, is it?
Relationships: Eric "Bitty" Bittle/Jack Zimmermann
Comments: 4
Kudos: 93





	Fourth

**Author's Note:**

> :')

The day is as long as it is hot. They try to sleep in, but before long, the sun is high in the sky and there are things to be done. A last minute trip to the grocery store in the red truck, then onto graham cracker crusts, potato salad, barbecue. The summer heat does nothing to slow down the grill. The cooking begins in the afternoon and it's still going once evening comes. 

By sunset, Bitty feels drained. He's run around all day, in and out of the kitchen, plates and pies in both hands; he's had Jack as his shadow the whole time, and the day's become a game, of sorts, naming the relatives, explaining the food, catching each other's eyes across the lawn during cornhole, a little tipsy, a little sparkly. The sky turns pink, then purple, and though Bitty would normally be ready to pass out in his bed, he's buzzing tonight. He's alight. He collects blankets and beach towels from the upstairs closet, packs the cooler, and hauls it into the back of the truck. He insists that Jack has to get the best view of the fireworks from the top of the hill, and he drives them away from all the noise. 

It doesn't occur to Bitty until they're already there, sat in the back of the pick-up truck with a pile of blankets beneath them and an expectant black sky above them. He and Jack are silent, for the first time. The fireflies dance, the cicadas hum, and the Fourth of July show will start soon. For the moment, though, there's nothing but quiet on the back hill by the woods. The air between them seems to explode with static. Bitty curls his legs up beneath himself, restless, and he turns his gaze out to the dirt road that led them here, dark in the twilight.

He feels Jack's eyes on him.

"Well, Bitty says, hoping his voice doesn't crack. He stares into the violet for another second. Then he turns to the cooler he brought. A whole picnic, just for the two of them, achingly planned and prepared. It's all he's dreamed about for the last few weeks, and now it just seems juvenile. He flips up the top anyways and searches inside. "Do you want a coke?"

Across from him, Jack nods. "Sure." 

Bitty pops open two soda can and hands one to Jack. He wonders if their hands will touch and sparks will fly. All he gets is aluminum sweat on his palms, and he chugs half his coke just for something to do. Something to cover the silence sitting between them, so he doesn't have to be the one to talk. It's not like they've never been alone together. They've spent hours together. Coffee time at Annie's. Checking practice. In the kitchen, working on those mini pies. On the rooftop, with Jack's coat around his shoulders. All those nameless hours talking, smiling at each other, not knowing if it would ever mean anything more than it meant in the moment. He's got days of texts from Jack on his phone and Skype calls buffered by background music. Now, there's just silence. 

Bitty swallows, bubbles on his tongue. "Fireworks should be starting soon."

He sounds like his dad. Single sentences that mean something they don't quite say. Words that don't fill the gap, but don't disappear either. Anything to avoid the silence.

"Bits," Jack says. He's sitting against the side of the truck in a bundle of beach towels, his legs stretched out in front of him. He's smiling, the sleeves of his red shirt rolled up past his elbows, the soda can leaving a ring of moisture of his thigh where he sets it. He moves suddenly, shuffling across the blankets to sit next to Bitty against the back of the cabin. 

Their shoulders brush. "I don't bite," Jack says. 

He flashes the goofiest grin Bitty's ever seen. It's like he's trying to smile sexily but he just can't take himself seriously, and though Bitty's heart flutters with nerves at Jack's touch, he chokes on his soda as he tries not to burst out laughing. 

"Stop it," Bitty exclaims after he coughs back a mouthful of fizz. He smacks Jack on the arm. "You almost killed me! I'm just— I mean, this isn't stupid, is it?"

He thinks he's talking about the picnic, the hill, the fireworks. Until he says it out loud, and then he realizes, his heart beating faster, he means this, all of it. Them. It's not stupid, is it?

In the purple, he sees Jack's face soften. "No, it's not." 

They hear the whistle of the first firework from over the hill. For a moment, everything slows down. Out of the corner of his eyes, Bitty can see the firework rising in the sky, leaving a trail of smoke in its wake. It's going to explode. But he's not watching it, and neither is Jack. Their gazes meet in the darkness, searching each other's faces. For what, Bitty's not sure— confirmation, reciprocity, love. He doesn't know. But he finds it there, in Jack's blue eyes, in the soft smile on his face and the way he looks at Bitty. 

The firework explodes in the black sky above them. It lights up the world in a shower of colors, warmth and light glaring down on their faces. In the explosion, Bitty can see the world in Jack's eyes. The honest truth, staring back at him, reassuring him:  _ this isn't stupid at all _ .


End file.
